I spy with my little eye...

Okay, so call me paranoid if you will, but since we moved I really get the feeling we’re being spied on. It's a really weird, unconfortable feeling; especially that it's not the kind of strange-man-lurking-in-the-dark kind of situation. No, it’s a less obvious one, which is a lot more difficult to handle than simply applying a good dosage of pepperspray and a kick in the nuts. Let me explain.

As a matter of fact, I do live on an alley - but it's a bright alley! Well in this alley, there are plenty of small shops: a liquor store, a toy shop, a smoothie bar, a clothes store, a restaurant and a beauty parlour. All crammed on a linear surface that must be equivalent to my flat’s total surface.

When we moved in a while ago, we had a very angry welcome from the toy shop owners, as we had dared block their window shop for an hour on a Tuesday afternoon - as if hordes of parents were supposed to run on the alley at that precise date and time, unable to benefit of their special offers on ugly wooden eco-toys. They were yelling at the movers, all the while eyeing us every time we would go downstairs. They’re a couple in their 50s - judging only on their face – but I’m guessing they’re a lot younger than that. They both have the same shade of grey hair, the same kaki t-shirt, the same height, same jeans, same walk, and of course they are both heavy smokers. I hope they are twins or at least brother and sister, otherwise it’s just weird!

On the other side of the alley, the smoothie bar is unfortunately right in front of our entrance door. I say unfortunately because of the smoothie guy, of course. Now, the smoothie guy is someone I simply don’t trust. There’s just something not right about the way he gathers with all the other shop keepers on the street and chat while looking up to our window from time to time.

He’s trying too hard to play the cool guy who is friends with everyone and helpful to new neighbours like us. I find mistrust in simple things like: “I noticed you got a motorbike, that’s a nice engine you got there!” and two days later we’d get a warning notice from the police saying we’re not supposed to park in the common yard. Probably on the accusation of the Siamese toy-makers. Who were also possibly told by the smoothie guy that it’s ours. See where I’m getting at?

So, as a consequence of these small signs of either us being spied on, or me going crazy, I’ve decided to spy back on them! Ha ha, wait until the world knows how many smoothies the smoothie guy makes a day… or, or what brand of cigarettes Santa’s evil helpers so eagerly suck on thirty times a day… oh, wait, that’s not interesting… L

This is only a small part of all the shit we’ve had to put up with since we started the whole move thing. Stay tuned for the rest!

The spring of courage

A few things have been swirling around my mind lately, that is in the past few years. I have been trying to find new landmarks in this technology-assisted, culturally brain washed society, and I decided I should start doing something. Something that matters, something that helps others return to the state of being human, caring about another, as opposed to the state we usually tend to be in - egocentric simians on a perpetual search for satisfaction...

And I did, I did something, and I still am doing a bunch of things. But, how come I feel so silly with my puny goals and ideals, when I see people facing death - in present and past times - all for freedom, for peace, for us, the others, who remain sheltered...

Well, instead of talking about abstract phenomena, I will tell you what happened...

The first thing that impressed me this week, was a conversation I had over the phone with a 80-year-old man. I was calling him for work, more specifically to invite him to present a very particular cellar to a bunch of kids. The cellar I mentionned was the place he was tortured in, by the Gestapo - you guessed it - during World War II, and this could have been a quite difficult task, given the emotional side of the presentation. To my surprise, the man was actually extremely serene about it, and confirmed his presence, lest he should die until may (that's when the event is supposed to take place)... He then got to talking to me, about the things he experienced, about the fact that he has been living with his wounds and traumatisms for over 65 years, about the fact he is now facing several types of cancer, and above all, that he is very SERENE about it... My one question is: How?

The second thing that touches me, probably because of very early memories of mine (aka december 89), is of course, the revolution in the arab world. What is happening in Lybia - seems to me - by far the most violent outburst and response from all the series of arab revolutions. The face of Kadhafi is haunting me, scares me and I feel I'm not looking at a human being. It's like all dictators and murderers have this kind of dark aura around them that makes them fascinating and scarry as hell at the same time.

But back to the Lybian people - my question, is again: How? I might not know all the details of the story, nor the consequences and effects that the revolution is bound to trigger, but I would like to understand what pushes humans into going out there, where others die, and be a part of it - when hiding in shelter could be so easy.